


Aw, Bucky, No.

by Alexander_Slamilton



Series: aw, no [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Deaf Clint Barton, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-06-26 23:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15673056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_Slamilton/pseuds/Alexander_Slamilton
Summary: " “Okay, please don’t be someone sent to kill me,” he pleads to the unopened door, there’s another knock. Clint opens the door, and there’s a guy who looks like Steve’s friend standing in the hall. What was his name? Not Lucky, that’s his dog. Something beginning with B. “Aw, Bucky, no.” "After the events at SHIELD Bucky goes to Clint because he knows that Clint won't hurt him. Shenanigans ensue.





	1. aw, pop tarts, no.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [semistable100yearoldman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semistable100yearoldman/gifts).



Clint looks at the coffee pot, waiting for it to be done brewing. His apartment, for once, is quiet; there are no kids or other Hawkeyes wandering about. It doesn't occur to him that that might be because it’s three am, but he’s still on London time so who can blame him, it also doesn't occur to him that it might because he’s not put his hearing aids on, but jet lag. Lucky trots up to him, and licks his hand twice; he tears his eyes away from the coffee, which takes a lot of effort. 

 

>>what?<< he signs to his dog, Lucky doesn't know a lot of sign language but he knows that's what means show me the problem. Clint is grateful for that one month he took off where he spent so much time in bed teaching Lucky sign language. He sees Lucky’s mouth move in a bark as he takes Clint’s sleeve in his mouth and tugs him over to the counter where his aids are. They’re the fancy new ones Stark made for him, they sit more comfortably than any other aids he’s had. He puts them on and finally hears the footsteps that are creeping up the stairwell. 

 

“Aw, coffee, no,” he says out loud as the pot eventually begins to boil, right when it’s too late. He moves to the door, peaking out the peephole, the fact that he sees nothing out in the hallway does not put his guard down. The footsteps are clearing coming from outside his apartment. “I just wanted to have breakfast and then watch a movie, I got pop tarts and everything.” He sighs. His bow is leaning up against the door, his quiver beside it. 

 

Clint vaguely remembers what happened a few months ago, how he’d got a message from Steve saying that his friend from the war was on the loose having escaped HYDRA, but he’d been too busy to process it what with his world going to shit. Now his world is still going to shit but he’s actually made it home; it vaguely registers in his mind that he should be checking the hallway to make sure there’s nothing there but he’s not had his coffee and he’s tired as shit. So he’s just standing by his door with his bow in his hand, an arrow already knocked. He steps away from the peephole though, as Lucky comes up to him and sits down by his leg. Clint just shrugs and lets the dog stay there if that’s where he wants to be then, like whatever. There’s a knock at the door. 

 

“Okay, please don’t be someone sent to kill me,” he pleads to the unopened door, there’s another knock. Clint opens the door, and there’s a guy who looks like Steve’s friend standing in the hall. What was his name? Not Lucky, that’s his dog. Something beginning with B. “Aw, Bucky, no.” 

 

“You didn’t kill her,” Bucky mutters, “you didn't kill her even though she was your mission. You’re safe.” He just stands in the doorway, the world’s most deadly assassin in a baseball cap and dirty hoodie. Clint is aware that the longer Bucky spends in the hall the more attention they'll draw so he gestures for Bucky to come in. 

 

“You want food? I got pop tarts, uh some pizza rolls, Kraft mac ’n’ cheese, and um cup noodles.” Clint knows he eats like a college student but he doesn't actually care, no matter how much Steve nags him about his diet. “I also just made a pot of coffee if you want.” 

 

Bucky shoulders his way into the apartment, he looks like someone who’s just spent a month on the run would; Clint’s pretty sure he’s not showered for about that long. Though he can see under the beard and greasy hair, there’s a handsome guy; a really handsome guy. _I gotta stop crushing on people who could kill me in three hundred different ways. Actually, maybe that’s why I crush on people. Nope._ His wish to die is not as strong as strong as his current wish for coffee and pop tarts so he leaves Bucky standing in the living room and goes over to the kitchen to put his pop tarts in the toaster. Bucky follows him looking for all the world like a lost puppy; a lost puppy who could totally crush his head with one arm, so Clint just leans up against the counter watching as Bucky quickly maps the whole kitchen, his eyes flicking in every direction. 

 

“I’m not who Steve wants me to be,” he says, after about ten minutes of awkward silence. His voice is hoarse like he’s not used it in a while. “They got in my brain and scrambled shit up. I don’t know how to be that guy anymore. After all, that crap with SHIELD and HYDRA came out though, I read the files, and I guess you might have some idea what I mean.” 

 

“You want me to help you become the same guy that Steve wants you to be?” Clint asks raising an eyebrow, absentmindedly feeding Lucky a slice of pizza from the box that’s still sitting on the counter from two nights ago. 

 

“No, I don’t think so,” Bucky shakes his head, his shoulders are still drawn in a tight line and his brow is still furrowed but he seems a little more at ease than he was before. “Don’t think I can ever be that fella again, but maybe I can stop wanting to shoot every loud noise, and maybe I can stop them from using me to kill people.” 

 

“So you want me to de-weaponise you?” Clint says, cautiously. _This is going to be a very, very bad idea. Fuck it._

 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, a tired almost smile flits across his face, changing everything. Clint sighs as he sips his coffee. _Yeah, this is a terrible idea._ He thinks as he smiles back. The toaster goes off but before he can get to his pop tarts there’s a bang and the toaster explodes spraying Clint with crumbs and bits of flaky pastry. “Fuck! I’m sorry it just happens and I don’t-“

 

“Aw, Bucky, no,” Clint mumbles before gently taking the gun from Bucky and leading him back to the living room. 


	2. Okay... this looks bad.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this fic wouldn't be updated for a while, but I'm having too much fun so...

He’s finishing up cleaning the remains of the toaster and thanking whatever god there is that Bucky had a silencer on his gun when Kate comes downstairs. It’s five am now, funny how time flies when an assassin shows up and shoots kitchen appliances, and pop tarts; Clint doesn't think he’ll get over the loss of them quickly. She’s tired, and her hair is mussed from sleeping, so she doesn't notice Bucky sitting on the couch; instead, she just steps over Clint and goes about making her coffee. Clint only accepts the cup she passes him and leans against the breakfast bar, waiting for Kate to notice the man sitting on the couch, and wondering if the two-day-old pizza was safe to eat. She’s halfway through the cup when she sees Bucky, she turns very slowly from one man to the other, her eyes wide.

“Why is there a man on the couch? And where’s the toaster?” Now that Kate has noticed one detail that’s wrong with the scene in front of her, she’s started to notice them all. “And why is there a bullet in the wall where the toaster was?”

“Okay, look, I know this looks bad, but he didn’t shoot me, so I figured we’re friends now. Plus he’s a friend of Captain America, so you know, I’m pretty sure it would be illegal to force him out on to the street.” Clint shrugs as he picks up a slice of pizza (not before throwing one to Lucky).

“Right. Wait. Is that the Wi-“ Clint shoves a hand over her mouth before she can finish what she was going to say. “Hey! Get off me,” she whines, “fine, is that Bucky Barnes?”

“I can speak, you know,” Barnes mutters, his face contorting in an adorable scowl. _Clint stop calling him adorable, he’s killed so many people_. “and I said sorry about the toaster, I can go buy you another if you want.”

“Do you think Stark could fix it? We could hide one critical piece it would really piss him off!” Clint grins, he tries to ignore the expression of confusion on Barnes’ face. “You know, Tony Stark? Inventor, genius, yadda yada…? Iron Man? You know, I didn’t think it was possible to just miss an ego the size of his? Aw, wait that was mean, he untangled the wires on my DVD player for me.”

“I know him,” Barnes grunts. “Makes good weapons, or did, I guess.”

“You called Tony Stark, world-class inventor, to untangle the wires on your DVD player?” Kate snorts into her coffee.

“I mean, yeah? It just be like that sometimes.” Clint shrugs, “he needs something to keep him busy, man.” If Clint sees it right (which he always does, he’s deaf, not blind) Barnes cracks a tiny smile at that; something inside Clint flips. Aw, fuck. He thinks. “I probably shouldn't call him about fixing the toaster. He’d want to know who shot it and why Stark asks a lot of questions, and I don’t have the energy to deal with that right now.” He takes the coffee pot and looks at it for a few seconds, before he tips it up and into his mouth.

“Gross,” Barnes mutters from the sofa. Lucky, who has been chilling at Clint’s feet goes over to him and licks his knee once before jumping up on top of Barnes, settling in his lap. “Barton. Barton, your dog, is on top of me.”

Clint resists the urge to laugh, Lucky just licks Barnes’ chin once before going to sleep. “He does that. Just accept your fate, Barnes, you now can no longer move. Confined to the sofa until Lucky decides you can leave.”

“But-“ Barnes’ eyes are wide, Clint scans him quickly for other signs of distress. His breathing is normal, and he doesn’t look too tense.

“Just pet the dog, Barnes.” Kate sighs, “I’m going to the range, you two just try not to kill each other while I’m gone. Please try not to shoot any more of our kitchen appliances.”

“Wanna watch a movie?” Clint looks at Barnes, raising an eyebrow, “the DVD player’s wires are untangled, and I have a lot of DVDs which I never get around to watching.”

“Sure,” Barnes pauses for a moment, considering the dog on his lap, and Clint’s face; before he shrugs and waves his metal arm.

In hindsight, Clint thinks later as he cleans up the broken glass scattered over the floor, watching John Wick 2 was not the best of ideas. Barnes had seemed determined to watch though, and Clint had already fallen for his puppy dog eyes. _So blue. So pretty_. His brain supplies rather unhelpfully. Clint laughs and sighs at the same time, feeling more emotions than he’s felt in the past three weeks. Healing a brainwashed super soldier is, apparently, harder than he first thought it would be, no matter how pretty he is. The DVD player now needs more than just its wires untangled; Clint is just happy that he had Nat take a couple of bags of money from his building’s washroom before Barney had made off with the lot. Barnes is now upstairs, he’d hidden away after he’d shot the DVD player; Clint doesn't know how to tell the guy that it’s okay. He of all people knows how hard recovery is; no one should feel bad for honest mistakes made when they’re wading through a pile of shit the size of Barnes’ pile of shit. So Clint just goes for the universal ‘I know you’re fucked up, it’s okay, I’m fucked up too’ gesture and orders them both pizza.

He knocks on the door of the room Barnes has claimed for his depression hideout, “hey look, Barnes, no hard feelings; it was an old player, and we probably shouldn't have watched that movie. I cleaned it up, and pizza is on its way, I didn’t know what you like so I just got cheese and tomato. Uh, come downstairs, and we can watch something on Netflix, they have Brave so. Plus I only just hacked into Stark’s account and I wanna watch a movie, and it’s no fun watching on your own.”

When Barnes opens the door, Clint notices the red around his eyes, it makes the blue stand out even more. _Aw, Bucky, no_. Clint thinks as he cautiously places his hand on Barnes’ shoulder, a gesture of friendship, Clint’s not used to making the first move in these kinds of situations. He is also aware that Barnes is very unstable at the moment, but he wants the guy to know that he’s not alone, Clint is just not sure that Barnes is ready to hear it.

“I know all the words to the songs,” he says instead of something deep with feelings. _Who needs feelings when there’s Disney movies and depression. Also really hot unstable super-soldiers_. “You’re going to love this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I don't know when the next update is coming, could be tomorrow, could be next month! Idk guys I just work here.
> 
> Also thanks mikey for giving me ideas and being irl clint barton


	3. I don't want a next life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> u know the drill

Clint is sleeping face down on the kitchen counter, Lucky licking his hand when he wakes to a tap on his shoulder. He took his hearing aids out because the teenagers in the apartment below him had been playing some kind of whiny music at three am; _gotta love Bed-Stuy._ Barnes grins at his face, which is not the reaction that people usually have to his face, he gestures to Clint’s cheek with his metal arm. Clint raises a hand a feels his cheek, there’s a copy his laptop’s keyboard imprinted on to his face. _Aw, come on, why can’t I ever catch a break._ It’s been a week since Barnes moved in, and Clint is still crushing on him, not much; just a little. _It’s the man-bun, it has to be the man-bun. Or maybe it’s his eyes. Or his arms. Yeah. His arms are good, even the metal one. Especially the metal one._

 

He sees Barnes huff and go over to the coffee pot, it’s not been put on and he can’t help but stifle a laugh at Barnes’ disappointed face. Despite being unstable and like nearly a hundred years old, _way too old for you,_ Barnes has a pretty good grasp on modern life and well he’s stopped shooting things so as far as Clint is concerned he can stay. Barnes is bustling around the kitchen, he sticks some cereal in a bowl and puts enough coffee in the pot for everyone in the apartment; before Clint knows it, he’s got a steaming cup of coffee in front of his face. 

 

>>Thanks<< he signs to Barnes, he knows that Barnes can’t understand sign language but he figures he’ll get the point. Barnes does, he jerks his chin up and shrugs. That’s when Clint catches the time on the microwave, it’s six am. _Wow, a whole three hours of sleep. Really living in luxury Clint._ The voice sounds like Nat; he chooses to ignore it. Three hours is plenty of sleep, and well, it’s hard to sleep when the guy upstairs is screaming and yelling all night. 

 

Clint’s worried, which is something he actively tries to avoid being, but he’d been up half the night listening to Barnes’ screaming. He knows it’s not good to try and wake someone from a nightmare, he has had that experience a few times, but at the same time, he wants to help. Barnes came to him. Not to Steve, or Stark, or even what’s left of SHIELD; he went to Clint. That’s gotta mean something. Clint watches as Barnes takes up his usual position on the couch, Barnes sits like some sort of cat; all curled in on himself. Clint’s no genius, he knows he hangs out with one sometimes, but the black bags under Barnes’ eyes don’t lie. Clint sighs and put in his hearing aids, cringing as the Spongebob Squarepants theme tune assaults his ears; weren’t grandparents supposed to hate Spongebob?

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Clint asks, gesturing at Barnes before he sits next to him. 

 

“Huh?” Barnes looks confused, he raises an eyebrow; he sits up and promptly knocks his cereal on to the floor. 

 

“Aw, cereal, no,” Clint sighs, but he just shrugs because Apple Jacks are probably dog-friendly; Lucky seems to think so as he sets about eating the spilt cereal. “Anyway, did you want to talk about the fact that you’re clearly not sleeping? Because, man, I know what its like okay. And you came to me, Barnes, so-“

 

“Bucky,” Barnes interrupts, “you let me live in your house, you should at least call me Bucky.” 

 

“Oh, cool- dude- that’s- yeah, cool.” Clint scrubs at the back of his neck. “Uh, you came to me, Bucky, so you know if you wanted to, um, talk about what’s keeping you up at night then you could- you could do that. Yeah. Okay. I’m just gonna-“

 

“I see them. When I close my eyes, I see their faces,” Barnes, _Bucky,_ whispers. The words sound like he’s forced them out like he’s making himself say them. 

 

“Aw, fuck, man,” is all Clint can think to say, he’s far too depressed and way too under-caffeinated to deal with this. “That’s rough buddy.” _Fuck. He won’t understand that reference. Fuck._ “I mean, I’m sorry, man.” 

 

Clint stops talking before he digs himself further into the hole he’s made for himself when he realises that Barnes, _Bucky,_ is laughing. He can’t help but crack a grin; it’s nice to see the way the smile changes Bucky’s face. The weight of his past deeds seems to slip from his features, and somehow his eyes look bluer, Clint doesn't know what to do with himself when he catches his eyes slipping to Bucky’s lips. _No. Stop that Clint, there is no way that this guy could ever feel anything for you._ He shakes his head and settles for clapping Bucky on the shoulder instead of kissing him like his brain is yelling at him to do. _Would that have made me a terrible person? Duh. Of course, it would, Clint._ The voice that sounds like Nat is back in the back of his head. 

 

“You got guts, Barton, ‘that’s rough, buddy’?” Bucky snorts. 

 

“It’s six am, the sun’ll be coming up soon, do you wanna watch it from the roof?” Clint gestures to the ceiling. _He knows where the roof is, Clint._ “It uh, it looks pretty cool.” He finishes weakly. 

 

“You askin’ me on a date, doll?” Bucky grins, raising an eyebrow, Clint notices that Barnes doesn't even blush. _The little shit._ The Brooklyn accent just serves to make Bucky even more attractive, Clint doesn't know what to do; his hand is still on Barnes’ shoulder. 

 

“I- uh- I’m not… that’s not what I- I just thought- um?” The words physically refuse to leave his mouth. _Real smooth, Clint, real fucking smooth._

 

“I was jokin’,” Bucky laughs, “it’d be nice to get out of the apartment for a while, and I like being high up. Feels like nothing can get me when I’m not on the ground.” 

 

_Aw, Bucky, no. Why you gotta be like that?_ Clint thinks and tries to act like he’s not dying of embarrassment inside. He smiles and laughs, though even to his ears it sounds forced. “Come on then, I think there’ll be some chairs up there, should be anyway if someone’s not nicked them,” Clint coughs and shakes his head again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to comment and kudos bc i honestly put a lot of effort into this


	4. I just want a nap.

There are some chairs up on the roof, Clint grins and hands Bucky a root beer and a seat. The sunrise is beautiful, it creeps over the rooftops and shines through the gaps in the buildings in Manhattan. From his apartment, Clint can see Stark Tower and the rest of the skyscrapers that shoot up into the sky; he loves this view, it’s better than anything. Bucky is quiet at first, he just sips his drink and lets out the odd long breath; Clint can’t help but sneak glances at him, it seems that Bucky’s actually been sleeping, at least there is a lack of the huge dark circles around his eyes. _Maybe he just washed off the eyeliner. It’s a shame it made his eyes pop._ Clint just ignores his thoughts and focuses on the way the sun is colouring the sky pink, and the way the headlights of the cars in the streets behind them wind through the city like a glittering snake.

“Are there anymore of those films like the one you showed me? The one with the singing girl?” Bucky’s voice disturbs the silence, but it’s not unwelcome so Clint grins.

“Oh yeah, there's a lot of them,” Clint says, “different girls though, but the songs are super catchy. I’ll show you Mulan next, I think you’ll like it.”

“Does this one have a cute animal sidekick?” Bucky asks he’s still looking at Clint. _Those eyes are gonna be the death of me. That’s fine. Death is just a super long nap._

“Uh huh. Yeah man, actually she has like three. A dragon, a horse, and a cricket and uh she’s pretty damn badass,” Clint smiles. “But it does have like war and stuff in it, so I’m gonna need to know that you’ll be okay with that bro.” _Please like Mulan, please like Mulan._

“Sounds good, I like dragons, Steve used to draw them for me sometimes when we were kids.” Bucky nods like this is a serious matter, “it’s not… it’s not the war that bothers me, it’s watching people die. Watching them die and not being able to do anything about it. Every time I close my eyes I see the people-“ he takes a gasping breath. _Fuck, Bucky, no._

“Hey, man, don’t… do go there okay, don’t even think about all that crap. Just uh, Mulan doesn’t have much war in it and like there’s no deaths shown on screen or anything so like, will you… are you uh going to be okay with it? Only like I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything or like trigger you?” Clint is uneasy. _I won’t be able to stop him, he’s a fucking super soldier, fuck Barton why you gotta be like this. Why you gotta do these things._

“I’ll be fine, I gotta start dealing with these things at some point, don’t I?” Bucky says, his mouth a grim line, “if I don’t get back on the horse, well I’ll be a hermit forever and that won’t do.”

“I dunno… being a hermit doesn't sound so bad. Lots of naps being a hermit. I like naps.” Clint mumbles. “If you’re sure you’re going to be alright we can watch Mulan. Hey, dude, you tried Chinese food yet? Cause if you haven’t then well you fucking should.”

“No I’ve never had Chinese food, there’s not much time to eat when you’re on the run,” Bucky huffs.

“Yeah, dude, I feel you there,” Clint sighs, “reminds me of Budapest.”

“Oh yeah, I remember Budapest,” Bucky nods, it's more of a jerk of his head, really but Clint sees it. “Nasty business, bad times there. In the baths especially.”

“You were there man? You were in Budapest?” Clint asks, he doesn't remember Bucky being there but then he must have been a shadow, following Clint around Budapest. _Shit, how much of my life has he been there for? That’s so weird. Dude. I have a hot stalker._

“It was a coincidence,” Bucky shrugged, “I had a mission in Vienna, then they sent me out to Budapest to see if you’d really take Natasha out of if you’d spare them. Reconnaissance they called it, making sure they knew how each high-level SHIELD operative worked. To see if we could take them down.”

“Aw, Bucky, no,” Clint grimaced. “So you were stalking me?”

“Nah, not really, just collected information, got caught up in a spot of bother around the baths, then I left,” Bucky laughed. “I remember you though, you were cute, you’d not broken your nose quite so badly then. And your outfit well…”

Is he flirting with me? Please, God, man, please let him be flirting with me. “Yeah, I remember that outfit, they’d not given me the good stuff yet. I wasn’t at a high enough level yet, so I had to deal with the super tight trousers. Kinda like yours now, but hey I didn't rock ‘em half as well as you are now.” Please let him flirt back, I just wanna kiss him, God. Please.

“You know, most people wouldn't flirt with the guy from the 40s, not the one who’s had his brain scrambled around with for last what seventy years or so,” Bucky is properly laughing now, he’s going a little red. _Oh my_ God _, it should be illegal to be this fucking cute._

“Hey, you can’t blame a dude for trying, right?” Clint holds up his hands, “look I’m not gonna lie, man, you’re pretty hot and like you started flirting with me first.” _I should sit on my hands to stop myself from kissing this guy. I gotta let him make the first move. Do not fuck this up,_ Clinton _Francis Barton._

“No, I guess I can’t blame you,” Bucky stopped laughing, instead, he froze with a grin still in place. He leaned forward.


	5. Everything is fine. No, really, everything is fine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's done! ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Clint could feel hands coming up to cup his cheeks, thumbs were stroking across his cheekbones. _Goddamn, that metal is warmer than I thought it would be. Wait. Is he?? Are we?? Clint Barton are you kissing Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’, Captain America’s, literal best friend. Who used to be a brainwashed evil super soldier assassin dude, but is now kinda back to normal but also Not. Are you seriously doing This?_ But Bucky’s lips were warm and just a little chapped; his stubble was slightly rough against the skin of Clint’s cheeks, and suddenly he didn't give a fuck. His hands were done flailing uselessly at his sides as he just gave himself to the kiss. _Rogers is going to seriously fuck you up._ He thought, but honestly, _who the fuck gives a shit_ , Clint just shrugged and gripped Barnes’ biceps. _Hot damn, they’re fricking huge._ Barnes was smiling against his lips, Clint was pretty sure he’d never felt something so dang hot before. Barnes grinning as he kissed him was about the best damn thing in the world. _Apart from pizza, coffee, and dogs._ Finally, he got two handfuls of Barnes’ hair, twining it in his fingers, as he deepened the kiss just a little bit. Angels, all the heavenly host or whatever, were singing hallelujah in his head as he got to feel the silky soft hair between his fingers. _Fuck this is the best fucking thing. Why weren't we doing this a week ago? Oh right. He was too busy being traumatised._

 

“That was,” Barnes began as he pulled back, looking at Clint with those damn bright blue eyes. _As if he doesn't look like all your sins in one right there_.

 

“Yeah, wait, was that your first kiss in like forty years?” The words were out before he could stop them, but Barnes didn't look angry at the question, more amused. _Well done Clint, just go and fucking say That._

 

“No. Don’t flatter yourself, Barton.” He could hear Bucky laugh, but Clint was way too busy watching the sun play out across his face, it was almost like he was looking into the old photos Steve had shown him that time they got drunk after shawarma. It was a little jarring, but it helped to see Bucky look so, happy, “What’re you thinkin’ ‘bout, doll?”

 

“That kissing me must be some kind of awesome therapy, because you’re sitting there looking so damn happy, Barnes. When before, no offence but you looked a total mess-“ Clint tried to finish his sentence, but he found himself being drawn into another kiss. “Goddamn it, you’re not allowed to-“ _Shut me up by kissing me! Oh. Oh well. ¯\\_(ツ)_/ ¯._ He was way too busy kissing one of the most attractive men alive to think about the fact that his brain now thought in emojis. _Wait, is everything okay? Is everything actually fine? When has this ever happened to me? Holy shit._

 

“Barton? Are you kissing The Winter Soldier?” Iron Man’s mechanical voice was far too distinctive for him to pretend he hadn't heard it. “Are you for real kissing the guy that I literally came all the way here to warn you about? Seriously? Is this happening or am I hallucinating from all the fumes I’ve inhaled again?”

 

“Aw, Stark, no,” Clint said, pulling away from Bucky, not taking his hands off the man’s biceps. “Seriously, man your timing fucking sucks, dude.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed, things will get a bit more into the nitty-gritty in the next chapter as they start to learn more about each other and such, but that'll come later. Don't expect updates very often, I'm writing another fic, an original book, and my thesis. But updates will come though they'll likely be short, this is my stress relief fic.
> 
> Blame Mikey for this fic's existence.


End file.
